2
by nikki7716
Summary: Ryou looks back on his 2 years with Bakura filled with control, hatred, sadism, and obsession-all leading up to Bakura's ultimate death at the hands of the pharaoh. LEMON. SWWM REQUEST SERIES: KHAOS KITTY.
1. 1

**1:**

Do you remember the first time we met?

Its details still seem so clear. 'L_ike it was yesterday'_, as they say. It's the only memory that seems clear to me before I met you. And how can that be? How can I only remember a person I knew for 2 years over a life of 17?

Nothing was easy about those two years but I lived for their every second. The person I was died after that day we met. Replaced by someone that lived only for you. You oppressed me and you thrived on it.

"_Ryou, this came from Egypt. A stand in Al-Minya was selling artifacts from the 19__th__ Dynasty_."

My father had smiled widely as he held out the present that would contain you.

The package was small, its plain blue paper crumpled around its awkward sides and my name scribbled across the top in haste.

_To Ryou. _It simply stated.

"Happy Birthday."

You probably think I felt some power or an evil when the gold necklace slid into my hands. But nothing happened. To me it was just another meaningless gift from a father that was never around.

And there was nothing unordinary about it.

I sang my praise to my father as I placed it around my neck, planning to put it on a cluttered shelf along with the other gifts I'd received over the years.

We both knew that stand wasn't selling artifacts from a distant ancient dynasty. The gift was from a last minute thought, grabbed in haste and cheap to buy.

Father and I never had much to speak about. To me, he was just a stranger that occasionally visited. The small duffle bag he always brought home lay unopened next to the door. He probably wouldn't even stay the night. You'd probably discourage me from speaking badly about my father. I suppose it comes from living in a time when fathers were held in high respect.

It wasn't long after I'd said goodnight, retreating to my room that I heard the front door shut. He will have left a note and money on the counter telling me an urgent call had come in. It was always the same, but it seemed best that way.

I tossed the necklace on my cluttered desk, soon it would be long forgotten, like the father I wished to forget. I didn't hate him. I just didn't need him. Since my mother had died, he'd given up on me and a family. And I just wanted to do the same.

I remember that night I couldn't sleep. I lay there forever before finally deciding to get up. The room was messy and I began putting things away out of boredom. I picked the ring up to put it up on my shelf so that I could clean off the desk.

And that was when it happened.

Isn't it strange? How it came that I would grab the ring—to me something that would be better thrown away than kept?

That I _happened_ to not be able to go to sleep.

_Happened_ to clean up the room.

_Happened_ to pick up the ring.

And when you appeared. I laugh now at how scared I had been. But who wouldn't be? A figure appearing in their room. Someone that even_ looked_ like me.

I stood there in a terrified silence as your eyes scanned the room. Would you have even looked at me if the ring hadn't been in my shaking hands? You asked me questions. Where were you, what year was it? But never my name.

And then you left. And the room seemed so silent. I think I forgot how to breathe. I must have stood there forever, frozen to the same spot you had found me in. It had all happened so quickly. You had only been there for mere minutes.

Why didn't I cast you off then as being in my head? Wouldn't that have been the logical response? But somehow, I knew. _I knew_ you were real. And I began to wait.

I began to wait for when you would come out again…

-

Over the next few months you came out only a few times. You would always ask those same questions before you would leave again. And always before I could ask anything in return or gained the courage to do so.

I vowed I would. Only to just know your name. I can't tell you why I thrived on our interactions so much. I guess because I always stayed alone. I didn't really make friends. And so I waited. Next time I would.

And waiting for that moment would prove to be my destruction and liberation.

I _obsessed_ over you. I'd study the ring for hours, running my finger over the intricate design, researching artifacts from the dynasties of Ancient Egypt, searching for anything, _anything _that would tell me about you or where you came from.

I wanted to know why you were here. Did you control when you came out? Did you live so long ago? 3000 years? How could I believe that a man had been trapped in this necklace for so long? As the questions piled up my desperation to see you again grew. I wasn't sure what I would say to you when you finally did come out. I was sure to erupt with questions, grab the ring in some childish attempt to keep you from returning to it.

That day a little over 2 months since my birthday was the day when you did. I had been lying there reading when your gruff voice broke the silence.

And the first thing you had asked me for was my name. I had sat up quickly, staring at you in anticipation, nerves, fear, too many emotions for one person to feel.

"My-my name?" My heart was pounding. You had finally come out. And I was sitting there speechless, every vow I'd made to myself seeming absurd and improbable.

"Yes." You weren't even looking at me, your eyes were always searching. Like you were trying to memorize every detail before you would return to the ring.

"Ryou…um…what's…yours?"

"Bakura."

And you looked at me.

I didn't know what to say now. And I began to panic that you were going to leave again. You were just looking at me. Waiting for me to speak.

"Are you a ghost?"

You scoffed, "No."

"Oh." Now what? I didn't want you to leave but I didn't have the courage to ask anything else. I looked over your sharp features. It was the only way I knew how to describe them. You were unlike anyone I'd ever seen. It wasn't just about the way you dressed, it was everything, your face, your hands, your legs. I found you to be beautiful. Some mystery that I wanted to know more about.

But whenever you came out you always seemed to be so far away. I'd noticed it last time. I wanted you to be closer.

"You can step closer." I encouraged. Maybe we could be friends, I'd thought.

You smirked at my words, like I had spoken something so ignorantly. I know now why you did. But then I just smiled as you stepped forward, sitting down on the end of the bed, your back towards me.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen." I wanted to reach out and touch you. Would my hand go through you? Would you feel warm? Like any other person or would you be cold? My hands began to hesitantly reach towards you. To the deep red coat that lay splayed behind you.

"How old are you?" I asked, my eyes locked on the coat as my fingers tentatively grazed closer.

"3020."

"Did you die when you were 20?"

"No."

My hand was there, I gasped as my fingers met the soft red fabric. It was in an instant that your hand grabbed mine, pushing me back. Your body looming over mine. Your body crushing into mine. I cried out in pain as you squeezed my wrist harder, glaring threateningly down at me. Your eyes were filled with a malicious hate. I regretted ever wanting you to come out. What was I thinking? I didn't know you. You were coming out of a ring for Gods sakes. I should have thrown the thing away after the first instant.

"You don't touch what isn't yours." You growled, your face close to mine. Teeth bared like some kind of dog. My whole body was shaking, I couldn't speak. I stared at you in fear and confusion of what you would do.

"You're a fool for speaking to me." I didn't know how to respond, your weight was still crushing down on me. "You've made it too easy for me to take control." I could feel your hand grip my side, nails digging into me. "It takes a toll on someone to live in a _trinket _for 3000 years. I've been regaining strength. "

"I—" The weight was too much for me to be able to breathe, choking on the few words I tried to speak.

"_Ryou_," You spoke with a sneer.

"_I'll control you." _

- - -

The pain was unbearable as you thrusted into me. You were ripping me apart. My blood was trickling down my thighs and onto the bed sheets, my face pressed hard into the sheets. You grunted with each push in and out of me—nails digging into my arms. And yet all I could do was lay there and suffer through it. I was too weak to move, too weak to cry out, too weak for anything.

You lived up to the words you had spoken to me. You had begun to control me and I didn't know why or what I had done to deserve it.

The body I had once looked at in admiration and awe had become something I feared and hated. The arms that once had stayed folded across your chest when you first appeared were now used to cut and hurt me. The face that had once seemed so beautiful—eyes that I longed to see me were now filled with hatred and sadism.

You told me I was ugly and worthless as you came inside my broken body.

You told me my only use was a slut, laughing that my cock had turned an angry deep red from the string you'd tied around it.

You made me beg for release. Disgusted when I did. You made me believe the things you said. You made me fear you. Hate you. And obey you.

I accepted the things that had happened. Believing they were my own fault. If I hadn't encouraged you, if I'd just ignored you or even thrown you away that first night, then this wouldn't have happened.

I never knew what sparked your sudden anger and dominance over me. You had seemed okay. Was that it? Had that been your way of making me feel you were safe until you were capable of staying out of the ring longer than a few minutes?

I hated myself for keeping the ring. I hated my father for giving it to me. I hated my naivety.

I was a fool…

I was worthless like you said.

**AN: **Whew, I took forever to post this! [Chapter 1 of 5]


	2. 2

**AN:** I just want to put a general warning out there, that this story is pretty dark and gruesome at points. It truly just gets worse chapter by chapter. I say this because I don't like reviewers who complain about it when its clearly in the angst category. However, I do know I have some reviewers out there that love these kinds of stories as much as I do—this is for you! XD

* * *

**2:**

Some days pass in darkness.

I'd given up counting the days. Remembering what day of the week it was.

Some days just didn't exist for me.

What did it matter anyway? Missing a few hours of my life was the least of my worries. Reality was painful. I should be thankful that I'd gotten away from it for awhile.

Four months since _it_ had happened were my hell. I lived with a monster—one incapable of compassion or love. One who seemed to hate me so much that he lived only to see me bleeding and in pain.

His words still stung. I wanted to be numb to them. I didn't want to care anymore or feel anything. I hated my body for reacting. I wanted my body to feel deadened so he couldn't enjoy its animation when he brought it pain.

"_Look at your filthy dick! You fucking piece of trash, is that what gets you off?"_

He had pulled me from the shower that time, threw me on the floor. I'd hit the tile so hard I blacked out for a few moments. It was cold, my body shivered uncontrollably. But he just looked down at me laughing.

"You're bleeding." He sneered. He stepped down hard on my wrist to keep me from moving. The pain shot through me like an explosion. I screamed out in agony—I had heard the crunch. Twisting my body desperately to pull my arm out from under him, to relieve the agonizing pain that was shooting from my arm and out to the rest of my body.

And he had just laughed; it was all just a game to him. Something to pass the time. Is this what he'd been waiting all those years for? Just for someone he could control? Treat like an animal and laugh about it? Maybe I was just an animal. Why else would God have fated me to this destiny?

He'd left me for the devil.

"_If I move my foot, and you move, I'll cut your dick off—hear me?" _

"_Okay! Okay I swear!" _

He rubbed his crotch lewdly, stepping off my arm. I felt like I could breathe again—all I wanted to do was clutch my arm and curl up but if I did he would hurt me even worse. I'd made that mistake before.

"_How does it feel?" _

"_It-it hurts…"_ I moaned quietly, trying not to cry anymore. He_ wanted _me to cry and scream out—he got off on it.

He sneered angrily, grabbing my legs and pushing them apart roughly. I clawed at the tile trying to scoot away but it was hopeless. It was always _hopeless._

"_What's the matter, lose your voice?"_ He gritted, fumbling with his pants to release himself. _"You sure hadn't last time. You couldn't get enough of my cock, could you?"_

I shook my head, my eyes were stinging but I had to hold in my tears. I was scared of how far he would go this time. It never seemed to be enough for him.

My whole body jolted as he rubbed my groin, biting my lip I tried moving away before fingernails sank into my thigh to keep me in place.

It felt so good, it always did when he would start out like this. Teasing me into needing it. I hated him. It wasn't enough for him to rape and hurt me. He had to make me want it too.

I didn't want to feel the blood pumping down to harden me. The needy throbbing it created, the urge to reach out and grab the hand and make it stroke faster. To want more._ More_.

I hated him. _I hated him._ He had turned me into this…this _thing_. He was the demon that haunted me. The punishment God had invoked.

I was panting on the floor, torn between my body and my mind. His fingers traced the veins, they kneaded up my shaft, his thumbnail lightly scraped the tip— making me _scream_. All the time with those eyes—those hateful eyes bearing down on me.

This was where the pleasure would end.

Where enjoyment would turn into unrevoked pain.

"_Looks like that tiny dick of yours is enjoying this a little too much." _ He sneered, flicking hard at the tip, repeatedly. It hurt. _It hurt_. It _all_ would hurt. He snickered and grabbed the bottle of shampoo that sat on the edge.

He tossed it between his hands, "I'm not sure I want my cock in that dirty hole of yours, I think I'll need to clean it out first."

"_Please! Please no!" _I knew not to beg. I knew it would make him want to do it more but I was scared. I was always scared of the pain.

As if to punish the outburst the bottle was shoved into me. Its liquid squirted out and soaked my insides. It burned so terribly I couldn't catch my breath. I thrashed beneath his grip trying in vain to get it out. _Screaming_ to get it out. The muscles ripping and starting to bleed from the wide bottle were soaked with the thick shampoo—feeling like fire. All I could hear was his laughter…_that laughter_—that sick, twisted laugh as he thrusted the bottle in and out.

When he was through with the bottle, he tossed it aside. Clanking across the tiled floor until it rested against the tub, slowing oozing out its remaining contents of shampoo and my blood. He examined his 'work' as he called it, his fingernails digging into the torn and damaged tissue, relishing on the cries it created from me. Digging them deeper…deeper into my skin. Like he was scraping _at the very bone._

Please let it end. Let it end now. I can't take it anymore. I'm already dead inside why can't I be on the outside too? There's nothing left to take. He's taken it all. It's just an empty shell.

I was torn from my reverie as I felt a hot tongue glide up my shaft, flicking at the tip. This was unexpected. As simpering eyes meant mine.

"_You're so easy to manipulate, Ryou. Damn you taste so good."_ He licked again, _the blood_. It was the blood he was licking up from me. And he would want more. Marks of his achievement in dismantling me. The deep red like a cry of victory to him.

"_Give me more."_ He groaned, licking across my thighs, at my entrance—sucking there. The drips on the floor. My blood like some kind of intoxicating drink for this demon.

He hastily reached in the cabinet, his hand fishing around for something sharp. The scissors held tight in his hands as he lapped up the last drops.

"_Just a bit more."_ He whispered, the ends of the scissors digging into my thigh until the skin popped, the blood erupting from underneath.

It trailed down onto my groin, his tongue following its trail. He ignored my screams, he held my body in place like it took nothing while I fought with everything I had left to stop that horrible pain.

He wouldn't last much longer. He couldn't control himself forever. Seeing me like this with the blood smeared across me would be too much for him soon. And I welcomed that end.

When the blood flow had begun to stop, I felt that hardness against me—heard the hoarse panting that meant he needed release. Felt the fingers around the top of my shaft, squeezing as hard as they could to stop the blood flow—to stop me from cumming. Like a grater against raw skin as he shoved himself deep inside me, past the bruised and bloody flesh. Whimpering out in the ecstasy I brought him and the agony he returned. The only pause from that pain, the jolts of accidental pleasure when he'd hit those nerves deep in me. My own cock would be an angry deep purple, humiliating me when he would be finished.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh made me sick. The grunts, the moans of pleasure and excitement. When he'd throw his head back, closing his eyes as he pushed himself in deeper. The way his fingers would slowly sink deeper into my hips as he got closer-- until right before he'd cum they'd break the skin. How could a body so torn and broken feel so good to another?

He felt so hot inside of me, digging into me so deep I had to suck breath into my lungs just to feel I was still alive. Everything would always feel so fast, his motions growing sloppier, quicker as he grew more desperate. He could no longer stop the flickering of his eyes or the small, vulnerable noises he'd make. It was in those few moments he seemed almost human.

And the salty stickiness as it oozed into me, that small grunt he'd give off as he lazily rode out the pleasure that raced through his body--leaving him weak-kneed and satisfied.

I always prayed he'd forget me—stay forever in that moment of bliss before his eyes could turn back to me. But they always would, his fingers would slowly uncurl from around my shaft. Admiring their handiwork. He'd begin to run his fingers up and down the shaft just to watch my reaction.

"_Such a slut."_ He chuckled in amusement.

My hips would buck up shamefully into those hands. Craving the release it had been denied for so long now. He would watch as he did it rough and quick. His hand jerking hard and fast so my body shook for him, my voice whimpered, my eyes shut for that monster. That sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"_You gonna cum, huh?" _My body arched up higher, nails scraping the tile.

"_Come on slut, ooh you must be close!"_ My eyes squeezed shut, hips bucking wildly.

"_Here it comes!" _The admonishing cry before my whole body stiffened and I came in long, hot spurts across his fist and fingers. He'd flick it off his fingers in disgust, leaving me there after that as the last tremors raced through me. He'd leave me there until next time. Maybe after I'd healed. Maybe not.

After all, he was the devil. And the devil never did care.


	3. 3

**3:**

They say it takes 21 days for a habit to form. Being raped every night had been going on for 46 days now. I wondered how it would feel to miss a day.

Would I notice? Would I be happy? Would my body crave it? I worried it might.

I'm not saying my body got used to being hurt. I don't think any amount of days can make pain go away. But I couldn't deny that it had got used to the idea of receiving it.

And I'd learned to cover the marks and remnants of the night before…

But do you ever watch other people and they just seem so untroubled? While you, you hold this ugly, heavy burden inside you that feels like its eating away at you. And you're the only one. You're all alone. You can never be like those happy people. It wasn't _meant_ for you. And seeing them…seeing that people out there can _live_ like that. Live _happily_, just makes the weight feel that much heavier.

And you could never understand how those other people feel. And you have to learn to accept that.

But it never becomes easier. It never seems okay for the world to go on like that.

Ignoring your screams. Ignoring your pain. That the world can just go on like nothing has changed. Where no one can hear you and no one cares.

Nobody _cares. _

I was failing most of my classes by this point. I'd missed too much school while I waited for the worst of the cuts to heal. I could explain bruises for clumsiness but deep cuts were another. Burn marks were hard to justify.

The worst of it all was a group project had been assigned and now I'd have to explain why we couldn't meet at my house. And being paired with Yugi would be hard. He always asked too many questions. It was always he that would first notice bruises or cuts and ask about them. If he got too close, if he found out…what would Bakura do?

No, I knew what Bakura would do. And I couldn't let that happen.

But Yugi was determined to get to know me. He said he'd pick me up today from my house and we could walk to his. He had insisted on it.

I had been pacing in front of the door waiting. I couldn't take the risk of not being there when he came. But he was late. Maybe he had listened to me and wasn't coming over. I'd done everything in my power to keep this life hidden from the outside world. I spoke to no one; I kept to myself, always afraid that I would give myself away somehow.

"What are you doing?"

No, no not now._ Not now! _My stomach dropped as I turned around.

He was standing at the top of the stairs, watching me.

"Um, I—I…" What do I say? _What do I say?_

"Don't stutter, Ryou. You sound like an idiot." He scoffed, coming down the stairs.

My mind was blank. What could I possibly say to make him leave? To not ask questions?

And then the doorbell rang.

"Who the hell is that?" He hissed, stomping towards me.

"No! No, Bakura, it's—it's for me!"

"Shut up and get the fuck out of my way." He threw me to the side to fall against the wall.

"Ryou, I—oh sorry. I thought you were…" My heart was racing, pounding so hard, my mind racing in fear.

Bakura was just standing there, all I could see was his back. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Can you tell Ry-"

"Go away." It was barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me?"

"Go away and if I ever see you on my property I'll fucking kill you." He growled

"Bakura! Please!" I whispered, trying to pull him back inside.

"I SAID GO!" he roared, slamming the door shut.

What was wrong? What happened? He turned around to face me, pure hatred and anger on his face, I'd never seen him look so angry. I truly thought he was going to kill me in that instant. I backed up against the wall, mumbling about the project I had been assigned. But the words were cut short as I felt the back of his hand against my face—feeling like the skin had ruptured from the force. I fell to my knees, clutching my face in agony.

"YOU FUCKING LITTLE CUNT!" He screamed, kicking me hard in the side.

"What did I do!?" I cried, trying to push myself away from him.

"DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS? DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK THAT IS?" He was so angry, his face was bright red, teeth bared, kicking me as hard as he could. Bones giving way and breaking beneath the force.

"I don't—please, please!" I begged. What had I done? _What had I done?_

"WHAT'S HE DOING WITH THE PUZZLE?! _WHAT'S HE FUCKING DO WITH THAT PUZZLE_?!"

"I—I don't know!" I knew the puzzle had something to do with the ring. But I never knew what. Did Bakura know something about it? Could something be inside Yugi's necklace like there was in mine? But Yugi was happy. Yugi was never avoiding being around others or hiding bruises and scars. I felt even more alone in that instant. Maybe Yugi did have someone in that puzzle. Someone _good._ Someone, not like Bakura.

He grabbed me under the arms, making me stand as he pressed me against the wall. He shoved my face against it, making it harder to breathe. He had broken something and now I was wheezing, fighting to take each breath as he pressed me harder into the wall.

His breath hit my ear, hissing into it, "I thought I'd broken you Ryou. But this. How could you do this to me?" I could hear him fumbling with his pants, pulling mine down while he pressed harder into me.

"I didn't—Bakura—" I whined, "I didn't know…I—I can't breathe, Bakura. Please!"

He shoved himself into me with a lowly groan, resting his forehead on my shoulder while he fucked me hard.

"Uhhh---ahhh Bakura…Bakura it hurts!" I cried, feeling the pressure from what had broken each time I was pushed harder against the wall.

"I don't fucking care!" He growled, digging his fingers into my hips.

"You betrayed me. _You knew_. You fucking _knew _he was out there and you said fucking _nothing_!"

"I didn't!" I cried. I wasn't lying. I didn't know what was going on. Yugi never talked about his puzzle to me.

"Shut the fuck up. I can't trust you anymore. I'm going to go hurt him, is that what you want? I'm going to fuck him hard and then I'm going to slit his throat." His lips pressed against my ear with each word, mixed with his panting breaths as he pushed himself deeper into me.

"No! No please! Please don't hurt him! Please…" It was all I had left to speak, gasping for breath after each word.

"If I fuck him would that upset _him_?" He laughed. Who was this him that Bakura hated so much?

"You—you can't!"

"Fuu-fuck!" Bakura cried out as he cummed in me. Pushing me hard into the wall as he ground into me those few last times. He pushed off of me, watching me as I sank to the floor, panting.

He tucked himself in, staring down at me. "Fuck you." He hissed, spitting on me.

He went back upstairs, slamming the door shut.

I looked down at my body. I'd gotten hard. I realized as I placed my hands on my lap. He'd made me hard raping me. Something was wrong with me.

Not only because I was throbbing right now.

But because of something else that I didn't want to admit. Something that made my stomach churn when I thought about it. Made me sickened with myself.

Because when I thought about Bakura raping Yugi…

_I was jealous._

_

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_**AN:** I'm a chapter behind on this! Oh no! I just keep doing endings I like so much I don't want to continue the chapter. Darn it! Well, this story has a modest following. Its strange because on my 'lemon poll' torture was the second highest for number of votes. Yet, its the torture where I always get the complainers. However, if you're reading this story than I'm pretty sure you don't mind it. lol. What's this have to do with anything? Absolutely nothing. Now go review. ;D


	4. 4

**4: **

Something had broken inside me and changed me into someone I didn't know.

I was scared of myself—actually scared _of myself._

For the things I thought and the things I wanted. Things I couldn't speak out loud.

It had been weeks since I'd last seen him. Since the incident in the hall.

I had so many questions about what he knew and yet I hadn't been thinking about most of them.

I hadn't thought of them because some other inexplicable urge had begun to manifest itself in me.

I said a habit took 21 days to form. And that habit was Bakura.

When something becomes commonplace you don't think about its existence. Or when something seems terrible you assume that it really is.

Being near him was like it. Was that.

Like some kind of terrible addiction forced on you that you hate and crave. It tears you apart but its very existence is what keeps you held together.

When I would do things to myself, I did them in the dark. I was embarrassed by my actions, like having them in the light would make them real. And if it was done in darkness, I could convince myself that it didn't really happen—didn't really count.

My skin itched for him; it became painful—like some unknown thing was crawling under my skin, burrowing itself into me. I wanted to rip it off; I wanted to cut into myself like he did to alleviate the agony. I'd lie there with the knife gripped so hard in my hand my knuckles were white, tip pressed into the skin but not enough to break. And I could never go farther.

I'd stare at that damn ring, that damned ring and pray, pray that he would come out and do it for me. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted that I could enjoy his afflictions to the point they had become like some kind of drug. Addicted, needy, insane without it.

I _needed_ it. I needed _him_.

Putting the ring around my neck, I'd lay in bed and pleasure myself dry until I was red. I hurt myself in pathetic ways because I was never brave enough to do something really painful. The small inflictions were enough but I could feel that need for something real growing with each day. And I tried desperately to ignore it.

I was free. I should be happy. I should be getting a life again.

And instead I was laying in the dark, wiping my cum over the ring, and shoving bottles up me in some wretched way to replace the man I hated—like some fucked up ritual to raise the dead.

It was when I had begun to lose hope of ever seeing him again that he came. Fear washed over me when I heard him speak again and all the feelings I'd been having over the past few weeks began to seem regrettable. Was this what I had wanted? Real pain? Real hurt?

I was embarrassed by the actions I'd taken in lieu of him. If he had known, he would have laughed I'm sure.

He sat down next to me on the couch, said nothing as we both just watched the TV. But I was staring blankly at it like I had been for the past few hours. My heart racing, nerves on edge, and my body getting warmer as I thought about things he could do to me.

"What have you been doing?" I asked, almost inaudibly.

"I've been here just not with you." He didn't even look at me when I spoke, just staring at the TV. And I had no idea what his comment meant. Been here? When I was sleeping?

"What do you mean?" He never liked when I asked a lot of questions, I was afraid he'd shut me out soon.

"The ring isn't the only vessel I can be in. Why do you think you black out sometimes?"

The realization of what had been happening hit me hard and I didn't feel scared or sickened, I felt crushed. _He didn't need me._

He glanced at me, chuckling, "You thought I wouldn't be finding out why he's here?"

"I don't even know who 'he' is."

He scoffed, "Why do you even care?"

"I just…just…I don't know." I sighed, I couldn't say that I've missed him. Even admitting that to myself was impossible. And I didn't know where we were. He was worse than I thought. If it wasn't enough he hurt my body, he took over it too. And I had no idea what happened when he did.

"Whatever."

That itching sensation, _need_ was starting to get at me while I sat there. Not even the abuse he'd just admitted seemed to quench or turn it off. If I asked…no, I couldn't ask. How could I let him know that I had started to enjoy it?

But my body was aching, screaming for it. I wanted, needed to touch myself. For him to touch me. To cut me and release this aching pressure that had been filling and suffocating me for weeks now. I couldn't even sit still, I was embarrassed. I was disgusting. I was hating myself. But it didn't matter. The ache wasn't going to go away.

If I couldn't get the words out I would show him through enough actions to make him understand. I licked my lips nervously, my fingers were shaking as I placed them at the hem of my pants. His eyes weren't on me yet as I unzipped my pants and began pulling them down. And then I could feel them—his eyes were on me now, watching me as I began gently tugging them down to pool around my ankles. I tried to keep from shaking, kept my eyes downcast as my fingers went my underwear.

"What are you doing?" His words cut the silence.

"I—" I shook my head, I couldn't say it. I can't admit it to him or to myself aloud. Then it becomes too real. I placed my hands on my bare thighs, my underwear were pulled down now and I was already half hard. The silence was deafening and all he was doing was staring at me.

I shifted around nervously, pulling my shirt off. I felt completely vulnerable being naked with him just sitting there, watching me. But it was still easier than saying it aloud—what I _needed_.

He started to laugh. To laugh like this was some kind of joke. My face turned red, I kept my face hidden by my hair, he'd grown tired of me and now this was all just some kind of joke to him.

"What the hell, Ryou. You wanna be fucked now?"

"Pl-please." I whispered, trying to hide the humiliation and shame I was feeling.

I gasped as his hand wrapped around my neck, his sneering face close to mine as he pushed me back into the couch.

"This is what you want now? To be hurt and fucked? _Used_?"

I tried turning my face from him. Yes was the answer. Yes I wanted to be hurt—yes I wanted to be fucked—I wanted him to need me like he had made me need him. I wanted him to feel like his skin was crawling when he was away too long. I wanted someone else to feel this addiction he'd given me.

But most of all, I just wanted him to satiate it.

He kept his face close to mine, letting his weight fall on me as one hand went down to undo his pants, the other still tightly wrapped around my neck. The back of his hand brushed my groin, making me moan pathetically. It felt like it had been so long since I'd been touched. He was amused by my neediness, doing it again to hear my reaction.

I squirmed beneath him, already too hard for comfort. He let his cock lay against mine, its heated flesh making mine throb more needily. His tiny movements made them rub in a delicious friction. He watched me closely for my reactions as he rubbed against me. Grunting and squeezing my neck harder when I would cry out. I took quick, shallow breaths, my breathing constricted to anything but.

"Do you want me to cut you?" He hissed against my ear, his lips sending shivers through my body as they brushed against my skin. I nodded weakly. His weight pressed down on me again as he dug in his pocket for his switchblade, wrapping his fingers firmly around it. This was what I had been waiting for. What I could never do myself. What I'd been craving.

He dug the tip into my side, watching me. And the feeling, the feeling I can't describe. When pain and pleasure seem one and the same, when the eruption of blood feels like your cumming hard, the blade digging in feels like its releasing you from everything—giving you the things that had been denied for so long. Making you feel…alive. Making you cry out in pleasure. Making you wonder how something that had once frightened you could now liberate you.

His knife traced up to my chest, crisscrossing bloody patterns followed by his eager, salty tongue. The pressure was uneven around my throat as he lapped up the blood and grinded against me. Much more and I would come before he was inside of me.

He was still clothed, only his cock pushed out of his pants but the cool fabric soothed my hot flesh. And something about the urgency made me more in need.

"Stupid slut." He grunted as he pushed into me. I screamed out, the dryness of my entrance mixed with the wetness of his cock, slathered with our precum from rubbing together. He was biting and licking on the cuts he'd created that had started to congeal, grunting as he fucked me. He never went slow. He started with a fast, sloppy pace and ended with it. Never caring for my satisfaction. His hand was squeezing my throat tighter, my face was turning red, my lungs feeling heavy; torn between the need for breath and the need for release. I didn't know if I would pass out or cum first and he didn't care as he blindly fucked me—only caring for his own release. His fingernails were digging into my throat, drawing blood as he sped up, my head crushed into the arm of the couch with each thrust. I clawed at his back, squirming as I tried to breathe. His stomach was rubbing against my cock, just enough for the build-up to continue.

I tried crying out but any noise was silenced by his hold around my throat. He let out a guttural moan as he threw himself into me, breathe raggedly falling against my ear as his fingers squeezed harder. My vision was starting to go, my stomach tightening, my mind going hazy, the build-up coming. And then. The indescribable feeling as his hand let go and I came over myself and him. Air flooding into my lungs as my whole body shook with pleasure. The explosion of my whole body as it is released from everything. I screamed out, unable to do less as I sucked the air in—beginning to feel his cum seep into me, mingled with the blood of the torn muscles I hadn't even noticed. I couldn't stop my moaning as he continued to thrust into me, riding out his orgasm.

"Shut up." He hissed raggedly, pulling out of me.

I lied there breathlessly as he sat back up, tucking himself in.

When I'd caught my breath, I tried getting up with shaky arms, feeling the dull ache of my cuts as I stretched and pulled at them.

I looked over at him, he was staring mindlessly at the TV. What happened now? Now that I'd given myself over to the devil. What do I say to him? Liberator and captor.

I stood up to go clean the blood stains off myself, heal my skin so that it could be broken again.

"Ryou." He called after me.

"You'll help me kill him."

I stopped, turning to him. "Okay."

I still didn't know who 'he' was. But it didn't matter. I knew then. At that very moment that I could no longer live without Bakura. That I would walk down that road that he would lead us. The path that would ask to me to betray friendships, feign allegiance and hurt others so that Bakura could get what he desired.

As I walked away I knew I would do anything for this devil that had claimed me. I would be his.

I would give him my body. My life. My very existence.

**AN: **I can't promise any updates until next week. I'm working on my graphics community pretty hardcore right now. If anyone has or uses livejournal, watch us! Just search 'cheese_tart' we do anime and manga graphics. No YGO yet, but I'm working on it!


	5. 5

**5: **

People live their lives fearing death. The first think they ask is, 'will it be painful?—will I be in pain?' They fear pain, they avoid it. They wish to die beautifully.

I do not know how I would want to die. I don't fear pain anymore. Dying a painful death doesn't seem that bad to me. But dying beautifully doesn't either. I wish for silence. That is my only wish when I die. A quietness from my own thoughts and the feelings that surround me. With that I would have peace. Not by any release from pain.

Pain has many sides to it, sides that aren't appreciated by most. Sexual urges that can be relinquished by it. Evoked and received.

A knife slicing down my skin doesn't make my heart pound because of all the blood that seeps and pools around me, it pounds because the feeling of my skin parting shoots pleasure down to my groin.

The mixture of nausea that used to accompany it has subsided, replaced with a yearning for more. I'm starting to feel less guilty about wanting it or maybe my need for it has just dominated over every other emotion. I don't know much about myself anymore, the only thing time anything makes sense is when I'm with him.

I laugh at the thought, of how scared I used to be, how the thought of him touching me or being around me would make me physically ill. And now…well, now was very different.

Bakura had taken advantage of my change in mood. He had never held back before or asked me first before he would rape me. But now that he knew I wanted it, really _wanted it_, something was different. He wanted me to do more—to say more.

"_Take the knife in your hand—How does it feel?" _

"_C-Cold." _

"_Touch the blade—can you feel the tiny bumps?"_

"_Yes." _

"_What do you think it would feel like to cut someone with it?"_

"_I—I don't know." _

"_Come on, Ryou. Think about it. What would it feel like…how much pressure do you think it would take before you would break the skin?"_

"_I—I don't know, Bakura—I—"_

"_Come on, Ryou." He growled, tightening my hold on the knife. My fingers were still wrapped around the blade, the pressure sinking the knife deeper into my skin—about to break. _

"_Feel that? Feel the pressure of your skin, right before it's about to pop?" _

_I nodded, whining. He pressed down more, the blade breaking the skin, blood trickling down my hand._

"_Right there, Ryou. Feel how the pressure eases up just a little when the skin breaks? It feels different now doesn't it? Uninhibited." _

_I nodded again, I could feel the difference. The blade slid easier, feeling no resistance._

"_That's why it feels so good…for both of us. That release of pressure, like when you cum." _

"_That's why?"  
_

"_Yes. And if you cut someone, you'd feel it just the same as when I cut you." _

"_Re-really?"_

--

My head was pounding when I woke up. My bedroom was pitch dark as I stumbled across to the light switch.

"Bakura?" The house was silent .

As I went down the stairs, I heard a muffled cry. Yugi lay gagged and tied, unconscious on the living room floor.

"YUGI!" I cried, running over to him. His breathing sped up on seeing me, trying to squirm away from me.

"What-what's wrong?"

"He thinks it was you." I turned around to find Bakura leering down at Yugi, chuckling at Yugi's wide, confused eyes as for the first time, someone saw the two of us together.

"What are you doing to him?"

I know I had told Bakura I would follow him where he asked, but why Yugi? Did it go back to that time he came over? The puzzle around Yugi's neck?

"The pharaoh is inside of him, Ryou. And if I can't hurt him, I'll hurt his vessel—_we'll _hurt his vessel."

"But…but Yugi is my friend." I whispered, feeling my eyes sting.

"And you belong to me. Don't forget the promise you made." Bakura growled, coming to stand in front of me, knife pulled out and pressed against my neck threateningly.

I smiled at him, pressing my neck closer to the knife to his surprise. "You don't have to threaten me. I'll do what you say."

He scoffed, letting his arm fall back to his side.

"We're sending him a message, not killing him." He said, kneeling down to Yugi with a smirk.

"We're letting him know he's not safe anymore."

I nodded, nervously kneeling down next to Bakura. I'd grown to need Bakura and in turn trust him but I still knew that sadistic urge he had in him wasn't always entirely quenched by me. Sometimes he wanted to kill. And I was afraid he would. I'd never seen him with someone else, someone that he didn't have to have around. Not like me, who he was forced to stay with for survival.

"What are you going to do?"

Bakura grabbed my hand, placing his knife in it. I was confused and scared, looking at him for answers.

"I want to watch you cut him, like I cut you. I want you to rape him."

My eyes widened in alarm, "Rape--Bakura, I can-can't do that!"

"You can and you will." He hissed, pushing my hand with the blade towards Yugi's quivering body.

"Or I'll leave."

"No, no Bakura, please," I whimpered, clinging onto him, "Please don't say that…please…" I cried. Even the thought, the _very thought _of him saying that to me made me absolutely panic stricken. He shoved me away, putting the knife back to Yugi's body, there would be no more discussion. I tentatively pressed the knife to Yugi's cheek, feeling and hearing his breath quicken.

"Feel the resistance?" Bakura breathed into my ear, standing behind me, hands running over my hips.

"Ye-Yes." I breathed, his hands felt so good on me…so _right_. This man…that only months ago I hated, _dreaded,_ now, felt so good against me.

My eyes flickered shut, focused on the feeling of the knife in my hand and the resistance it met at Yugi's skin. I could feel Bakura's soft breath at the nape of my neck, his body heat radiating off onto me.

"Now press down, just enough to break the skin." He whispered, letting his fingers run over my stomach, dipping into my jeans just enough for my breath to hitch in anticipation.

I did as he said, it didn't take much before I felt the pressure give and Yugi whimper. I gasped in surprise, feeling aroused. I was surprised by the feeling it gave me, like Bakura had mentioned. A hazy power over flesh and body trickled through my veins as I felt warm blood touch my skin. Bakura moaned lightly in my ear, "_yeesss_" he hissed, wrapping his hand around my cock, eliciting a gasp from me.

His lips pressed against my ear, "Do it again. On the other cheek." His fingers started to run up and down my shaft, speeding up—applying more pressure as my knife got closer to the pale skin.

"Bakuraaaa…" I groaned, panting as I hardened—his hand feeling so good.

"Come on." He hissed. I barely paused this time, savoring the skin against my knife only a moment before letting it slice apart, blood trickling out.

"You know what to do now, right?" He asked. I nodded weakly, my head felt light from arousal, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get up as the pressure continued to grow.

Bakura's hand slid out from my pants, pushing me to sit at Yugi's legs.

"Don't worry, he doesn't have enough energy to move. I've taken care of that."

"O-okay." I nervously smiled. I didn't want to look Yugi in the eyes, it was still too real. But the feeling…the feeling was still undeniably strong to do what Bakura wanted and yet still _enjoy it_.

I wanted to wait for Bakura's command, I looked at him, waiting for his next demand. He was rubbing his crotch, the bulge apparent as he smirked at me…_proudly_.

"Take his pants off, get your cock out and fuck him."

My fingers nervously fumbled to pull down Yugi's pants, I could feel him trembling, hear him crying out, see the tears running down his blood-stained cheeks. But it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the feel of Bakura coming up behind me, fingers digging into the back of my pants to tease at my entrance as I knelt over.

Yugi struggled slightly, whimpering as I pulled his pants and underwear down.

"They-They're…wet." I gasped, throwing them aside, noticing how Yugi's face turned in shame.

"Yeah," Bakura chuckled, "He pissed himself when I had your body. Thought I was gonna cut his dick off."

I didn't know whether to laugh with him or feel sorry for Yugi—maybe a little of both.

I threw the soiled clothes to the side, spreading Yugi's quivering legs, I felt my need growing again, tightening my hold on the knife I pressed myself against Yugi's entrance, feeling the heat emanating from it—teasing me.

"Go on." Bakura soothed, placing his hands on my hips to push me forward.

Yugi cried out in pain as I pushed into him—the sound feeling far away as I cried out in unison—_in ecstasy_.

"Does it feel good?" Bakura whispered in my ear, pushing his finger inside of me, twisting it around.

"Ye-yes!" I shuddered, moaning as intense heat encompassed me, burned against me. Better than anything I could have ever imagined or dreamt of. Bakura pressed me forward—pushed me back, making me thrust in and out of Yugi as his finger continued to twist and thrust into me.

Yugi was crying out, muffled by the gag Bakura had placed in his mouth. I could feel blood slickening my movements. Feeling so good…_so achingly good_. Each thrust was magnified by Bakura's twisting, prodding fingers as they pressed against the nerve bundle inside me—making me push deeper and faster into Yugi.

"Kura…KURA!!! Pleeeeease!" I whined, torn between pushing harder into Yugi or deeper onto Bakura's fingers.

"Cut him Ryou. CUT HIM." Bakura hissed, pushing a third finger into me and thrusting hard.

I nodded, gripping the knife harder before plunging it into Yugi's thigh, whimpering as he screamed out in pain. Bakura growled into my ear, throwing me backward to fall onto the floor. He ran his hand through Yugi's pooling blood, his other hand fumbling to pull his cock out, he quickly slathered it all over it, before pushing right into me.

I cried out, feeling the delicious ripping as my muscles pushed against his throbbing cock. He growled into my ear, speaking between grunts, "I couldn't take it anymore. Fuck…fuck!" He moaned.

"Kura!" I whined, my eyes squeezed shut, trying to just _breathe_ as he fucked me harder than ever before. My body was on absolute fire—there was no other way to describe it. Every nerve—every sense—everything…_everything_…

"Kura, don't stop! Don't stop!" I cried.

He growled in my ear, reaching between us to grab my cock, I cried his name again as he pumped me hard and furiously, clutching at the floor—for anything to grab onto.

"You liked hurting him didn't you?" He hissed with a moan.

"Y-Yes!"

"It felt good, didn't it?"

"Y-Yes!" I screamed as I started to cum over his fist and fingers. He grunted as my muscles contracted, slamming into me harder until his eyes flickered shut with a small moan, feeling his cum fill me. He thrusted in a few more times before slowly pulling out, standing up.

I sighed in content, watching him as he lorded over Yugi's bleeding body with a sneer.

_I had made him happy. _

A sudden happiness I hadn't known filled me completely. The feeling of living for someone else. And pleasing them. Bakura had even touched me for the first time. _Pleasured me_. The feel of his hand around my cock, pushing me to orgasm was new and thrilling—filling me with a sense of…_love_.

Yes, that was it.

_That was it!_

_Love_. I loved him.

_I loved Bakura. _

My heart was full to burst as I watched Bakura.

"I love you." I spoke, barely above a whisper—his back turned to me.

"Get yourself and Yugi cleaned up." He said.

"O-Okay." I smiled, sitting up.

He hadn't heard me…

And I didn't have the nerve to say it again.

* * *

* * *

**AN:** GAWWWWWD!!! I would have had this up sooner if stupid FF would have been letting me sign in. -_-. Regardless, here it is. This chapter killed me but I'm very happy with it. Please go vote for my entirely unrelated poll now. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!


	6. 6

**6:**

The end came.

It came before I could see it. Before I could accept it. Before I could even feel its presence.

We had reached the end. Your goal was so close. I had followed your wishes, your commands, your desires—and we were so close to completing what you had wanted for so long. To me, it seemed like your freedom, to you—it was something much more.

I had begged you to let me stay with you, each step down into the tomb you fought me for control of body and mind. I clawed against the walls, screaming that you needed my help—that I needed to be with you. That we had come this far—_this far_ and I could help. _I could still help_.

But you just told me you never needed me. All I was good for was as a vessel and something to fuck.

Those had been the last words before I lost consciousness and you had taken over.

"_I don't need you—I never needed you. You're a vessel and a fuck—that's all. __**I don't love you**__." _

The next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital bed with Yugi and the others. _Smiling over me like I had been the victim in all this, treating me with care and worry. Yugi—even Yugi after what we had done—looked at me like I was some friend. Tears running down those scarred cheeks in happiness that I was okay!_

I was disgusted.

I screamed out, pushing them away, screaming out your name, pulling the IVs running from my arms, fighting against them as they tried putting me back in bed.

I know you didn't mean what you said Bakura—you were saying it so I wouldn't worry about you.

But you were supposed to come back. You weren't supposed to leave me alone.

I sit now in this empty dark room. Thinking about all that had happened here. The first time I'd seen you until the last. How could I sit here? How could I live here knowing? Knowing what all had happened?

I grip the knife tighter in my hand, closing my eyes as I let my other hand run over my hardening groin.

"_Bakura. Bakura touch me more." _

It's _his_ hand that runs over my crotch, _his_ hand that brings the knife to my chest.

I let the knife cut through my clothing down to the skin—feel the bitter sting as my skin is sliced—watch my shirt slowly turn red—let my other hand pull my jeans down to pool around my ankles.

_His_ hand teases me, squeezes painfully hard—continues to squeeze as I whine out his name.

It hurts as I slice down my chest again, painfully squeeze my cock so that the tip is blue. I dig my nails into the cuts, feel my eyes sting.

"_Bakura!"_ I cry. _"Bakura!"_

I'm sobbing and I can't stop, I'm cutting and I can't stop. I need the pain. _I need it._

I'm rubbing my cock raw as I stroke it as fast as I can. I've stabbed through my leg so far the knife has stuck in the floor. And yet I feel as if I can't really feel it.

I can't feel the pleasure—or the pain.

"_Bakura…" _

I pull the knife out, holding it tighter, crying…_crying_…crying so hard I can't see. _And I can't feel anything._

Everything is dull and dead without you.

"_Bakura…" _

I pull on my cock so hard I feel it would pull right off, I scream and I stab again, right into my stomach, blood gurgling up into my throat, dripping down my chin to mix with these tears that won't stop.

The knife pulls out easily, chased by the chunks of blood and skin that stain the floor. Again my knife goes on, higher into my rib cage. And this time it feels like I can no longer breathe. I gasp and choke, reaching for completion before I lose consciousness.

But I feel myself slipping, too much is leaving me to ever reach that completion.

"_Bakura." _

"_Bakura!"_

Come back, come back and finish me. I stab again._ Finish_ _me. __**Finish me!**_

I let the knife tear down my side, screaming out as it rips at my insides—tears them apart.

I'm stabbing too much now, I feel my grip weakening as I stab frantically. My cock is getting limper as more and more blood leaves my body.

I stroke it harder as I twist the knife deeper into my side.

"_Bakura…"_

The body that belongs to you. It doesn't know what to do now that its master is gone. So it destroys itself. So that no one else can ever possess it.

_People live their lives fearing death. The first thing they ask is, 'will it be painful?—will I be in pain?' They fear pain, they avoid it. They wish to die beautifully. _

Will people envy me? When they find my body, surrounded by this pool of crimson, will they be jealous that I had died beautifully?

* * *

**AN:** This is the creepy, weird ending I've had in mind for this story since the beginning. I hope it leaves you O.O. I SUPER APOLOGIZE FOR THE HUGE GAP OF TIME IT TOOK TO FINISH THIS. Its not even that long! GAH! Well. Anyway, its done. Love you all! I'm going to try replying to reviews tomorrow. I really appreciate all that I have received thus far!


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